Unwanted Shadows
by Mr. Teatime
Summary: Vilfred and Britte had no idea what they were getting into when they moved to the province of Cyrodiil. Raised to treat honor above all, they will have to lower themselves to the depths of corruption to survive.
1. Chapter 1

Cold…cold, hard…behind me…

Pain and confusion swirled inside his head like fog, obscuring his view of what was going on. There was something behind him, cold and hard…the floor…why am I on the floor?

He struggled to regain control of his senses. The fog began to lift somewhat, as he braced his upper body to sit up straight. As he attempted this, however, his muscles erupted in pain, and he fell backwards again.

"Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen."

A voice…one he did not recognize. It let out a mocking laughter that resounded all around him…

This time he managed to pull together the strength to sit up and stay up. It was too dark for him to see anything clearly, however. He felt up and down his body, searching for injuries. Aside from being incredibly sore, he seemed fine, though he noticed he was not wearing his iron armor anymore. He was now in nothing more than torn rags. What was going on?

"Ah, what a delightful look of confusion. You've no idea where you are, do you?"

That voice again…

"Show yourself."

"I am right here, Nord."

The Nord squinted his eyes, trying to accustom himself to the darkness quicker. Then it hit him.

Bare, stone walls and floor…except for one wall, blocked by iron bars.

"Welcome to prison, my friend," came that all too insistent voice.

The fog of the previous night was now wafting away…he had been in a pub…searching for…

Something hit his memory with the force of a lead brick, and he jolted upright, a look of such distress on his face, the man watching him nearly fell back in alarm.

"You cannot get to me," the voice called out, mistaking his expression for anger and hostility. "I am a prisoner, like you. See? We are separated by the hallway."

Now the Nord could see well enough to tell that this was the case. The person speaking was a Dark Elf, dressed in tattered rags similar to his own. His face was unshaven, and covered in a distrusting scowl.

His skin was a dark blue, characteristic of all Dark Elves. Considered a generally unpleasant race, this one looked doubly so. His face was scrunched into such a hate-filled expression, the Nord immediately felt he belonged in a jail cell.

"Where is she?" the Nord growled.

"I've no idea whom you are talking about," the Dark Elf replied coldly.

"The woman! The woman I was with!" the Nord shouted, lunging for the bars. He stretched his arm out through them, attempting to reach the Dark Elf.

"My, my, aren't we clever," his adversary laughed. "Yes, come get me through those reinforced iron bars. Brilliant plan!"

The Nord growled menacingly again, then pulled away from the bars. The Dark Elf was right. He would have to calmly think his way through this.

"Is there any possible way out of here?" he asked.

"Hmm…there…might be," grinned the Dark Elf.

"Tell me."

"And why should I do that? What's in it for me?"

"I will get you out as well, if you aid me."

"Oh? How can I trust you?" His fellow prisoner raised an eyebrow of disbelief at him.

"My honor is my life."

"Ah. That explains it. You're new in the Imperial City, otherwise you wouldn't be spouting off such rot. Where are you from, boy?"

"I am from a small village in Skyrim."

"Mmhmm…then I truly believe you would return for me…" the Dark Elf muttered, scratching his chin. "Why so far from home, boy?"

"Do not call me boy," growled the Nord.  
"Well you have given me nothing else to call you," sighed his inmate.  
"My name is Vilfred."

"Very well. Valen Dreth. Four bricks up, right of the bed."

Vilfred paused a moment, uncertain of what he meant. Then he understood, hurrying over to the small mattress in his cell. He counted four bricks up, and tapped on it. When it pushed into the wall like a switch, he jumped back in alarm. Dreth chuckled at him.

"What a lucky day for you folks. There was a prisoner in that cell no more than an hour ago, and he got out that way thanks to the Emperor of Cyrodiil himself," Dreth explained.

Vilfred glanced at Dreth, confused. "Come again…?"

"Oh, something about assassins and the crumbling of the empire, blah blah blah. The Emperor and his guards escaped through that tunnel, and the prisoner in that cell took off after them."

Vilfred looked down the dark tunnel that led deep into the ground. "I only hope it doesn't lead straight into a death trap…"

"If it did, the Emperor would not have taken it," Dreth stated simply.

"You are right…" Vilfred nodded. "I thank you, friend."

"Pah, I don't want thanks. Keep your word and come back for me! We wouldn't want you to be dishonored now, would we?" he added sarcastically.

The brick wall started to shift back into its normal position, so Vilfred quickly slipped through it without another word. When the wall was back in place, once again concealing the tunnel, Vilfred was plunged into total darkness. Gulping, he began to walk forwards, feeling completely unprotected in his prison garb.

The crude dirt tunnel ended rather quickly, revealing an intricate stone room. Vilfred slowed his pace, looking around at the walls and ceiling. He looked down, however, when he felt himself step in something odd.

It was a body. Human.

Vilfred looked around in alarm. The body he had stepped on was that of an Imperial, dressed in a simple red robe. Nearby was another man in an identical red robe. A third body lay off to the side, this one a woman. She was dressed in elegant, ceremonial armor. One of the Emperor's guards.

"What is going on here…" Vilfred muttered to himself. The secret tunnel system had been compromised, that much was certain. He didn't feel good about it, but he had no choice but to strip the guard of her armor and put it on. It was a tight fit, but now he could fend for himself if need be.

He approached a door leading into the next area, but found it securely locked. He banged on the door, and attempted to ram his shoulder into it, but it did not budge. Sighing, he continued to survey the room.

There, in the corner, was a small hole. He bent down and peered through it.

Something dove out at him, straight for his face.

Jumping backwards, Vilfred grabbed the creature and swung it around, smashing it straight into a wall. It fell to the ground, a broken heap. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a rat. A giant rat.

Shivering in disgust, Vilfred got back down and began crawling through the hole. It was a tight fit, but he squeezed through, into another dirt room. Not exactly a fancy escape tunnel, but it would do.

He ran through, noticing various skeletons, both human shaped and rat shaped, scattered across the floor. Perhaps he would join them…

He found another locked door, but this one was wooden. Backing up and gathering his strength, he charged forwards and smashed straight through it. Dust and wood splinters exploded around him, as he collapsed panting on the other side.

This new room contained another dirt tunnel leading even further down. How far underground did this place go? He had to get back and find Britte! And Valen Dreth, of course. Perhaps this area was a death trap. Perhaps the Emperor of this land was already dead. Not that it affected him, much…

He continued traversing down the tunnel, his boots bringing up clouds of dust every time he took a step. He coughed, causing an echo all up and down the tunnel that caused him to cringe.

At the end of the tunnel was a sharp turn to the left. He followed it, as the walls on either side of him began to get narrower and narrower. It got to the point where he had to walk sideways to fit through, until he crawled out into another wide cavern.

He did not take heart in the fact that no one had ever seemed to make it this far. It was crawling with large, ferocious rats. Vilfred crouched down, walking slowly in the shadowy corners of the room. He could see another wooden doorway on the other side of the cavern, but would not be able to break through it without drawing the attention of the rats…

He sighed. No point in hiding from this fight. They were just beasts, weren't they? He counted more than half a dozen, but still…

Lunging out from the shadows, he grabbed the nearest one by the tail. It screeched, instantly attracting the attention of all the others. They bared their teeth and charged straight at him.

He swung the first angrily struggling rat straight at the ground in front of a few others, knocking them back. He swung his elbow at one that lunged at his chest, his armor plating breaking its ribs and sending it to the floor. He lashed out with his foot, catching another one in the head with an iron boot.

He placed his back against a pillar, and lashed out with hands and feet, repelling any of the beasts that came at him. One strong blow was all it took to incapacitate or kill one of the rats. When finally they all lay, dead or twitching pitifully, he continued onwards. He barely had the energy to take out the door, so he was relieved to find it was unlocked.

Stepping through, he found himself back in the elegant stone hallways. He had managed to get back on track! He could also tell this fact by the trail of fresh human bodies in red robes strewn about. Who were these people?

Then he heard a voice. A human voice. The voice was deep, but unmistakably panicked. It cracked as if he were holding back weeping. Perhaps he would have his answer…

"I've failed…" the voice muttered. Vilfred couldn't tell if this person was talking to himself or someone else. "The Emperor is dead, and it's my fault…the kingdom, ruined…"

Cloaking himself in shadows once more, Vilfred slunk through the stone hallways, following the sound of the voice. Crumpled bodies littered the floor the entire way. Most of them were clad in those strange red robes, but a few scattered about appeared to be royal guard.

Finally he came across one living man, an Imperial guard. He was pacing around, still rambling to himself. Beside him lay a regally dressed corpse that he kept looking at fretfully.

The Emperor…

Vilfred stood up and cleared his throat. The guard immediately drew his weapon and crouched into fighting position.

"Stay away, vile assassin," the guard shouted in a strained voice. It was obvious he was trying to sound as intimidating as possible, but was falling short due to weariness and sorrow. Bags were under this man's eyes. He looked as if he should be young, but strong duties placed upon him aged his face considerably.

"I am no assassin," Vilfred called out, stepping closer. He raised his hands over his head. "As you see, I am unarmed. I am lost down here, and simply looking for a way out."

The guard eyed him distrustfully. "How did you get in?"

Vilfred was not very good at thinking on his feet, but blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "The sewers? I am…a sewer worker…"

The guard stared at him a moment longer, then relaxed slightly. "Aye, the sewers do hook up to these tunnel systems," he nodded. "You better stay with me. You've come at a very bad time…"

Vilfred walked over to him, his hands still in the open. "No, I really must be going…"

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that." The guard shook his head. "I'm sorry, but under the circumstances…"

Something caught Vilfred's eye. When then guard shook his head, a set of keys on his hip jingled.

"What are those keys for?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, just the prison cell doors. None of your concern-"

Before he could finish speaking, Vilfred brought his fist around with all the force in his body, and connected squarely with the guard's jaw. He shouted in pain and shock as he collapsed onto the floor.

"I'm sorry," Vilfred said solemnly. "I truly am."

The guard tried to stand back up, but Vilfred kicked him hard in the stomach, and he went out cold. Glancing at his body, then the Emperor's, Vilfred grabbed the keys from his hip and scurried out.

His guess had been, against all odds, completely right. Just a few hallways down was a grate into the sewer systems of the Imperial City. Holding his breath, he lowered himself down into the murky depths.

He stepped down into sludge that went up to his ankles. Cringing in disgust, he splashed forwards, hoping to be out of this horrid place as quickly as possible. He grasped the first ladder he could find and hoisted himself up it. His flimsy prison pants were soaked through. Shaking off some of the wetness, he climbed up, pushed this new grate aside, and climbed up.

The sun hit his eyes, temporarily blinding him. He quickly crawled up, replaced the grate, and dove behind the nearest cover: a small group of bushes. Immediately after, a pair of guards walked by, stepping right over the sewer grating.

"I'm out…" he muttered to himself. Looking around as best he could, he was in a small garden beside a large, circular building. Large amounts of guards patrolled back and forth, talking amongst themselves. An uneasy breeze seemed to be washing over the place.

Looking down, Vilfred realized he was in the armor of an Imperial guard. He stood back up, and walked into open view. No one made any rushes for him, or even acknowledged his presence. He was in the clear.

Regaining his composure as quickly as he could, he turned right around and walked back towards the building. He nodded at the guards standing on stationary patrol, and let himself in through the front door.

Would it really be that easy?

He tried painfully to remember last night…he had been in a pub with Britte, here in the city…a fight had erupted, and he was accused as the cause. He was knocked to the ground when the guards came in…it was all hazy after that, but…they had dragged him off down…the left corridor.

Hoping he was right, he walked down that hallway at a calm, leisurely pace, as if he were simply on patrol. Still, he hoped to avoid any other guards…

"Vilfred?"

He whipped around to see where that voice had come from. There, in a cell he had passed by…

"Britte," Vilfred said quietly. "Come on, we've got to get out of here!"

A female Nord looked at him with relief filled eyes from the other side of the bars. Then she smiled from ear to ear, grasping his hands through the bars. "How?" she asked.

Vilfred grabbed for the keys by his side, and quickly fumbled through to find the right one. He finally matched the key with the lock, and the cell door slid open. Britte lunged out and hugged him, but Vilfred had to pull her away quickly.

"We've no time to waste," he said. "There was a man who helped me escape. I promised to go back for him."

Britte nodded in understanding. "Which way?"

"This way, I'm fairly certain…come on…"

Vilfred grabbed her arm and hurried off down the hallway with her. "Were you injured?" he asked as they ran.

"No," she replied. "Just frightened…"

They came to a spiral staircase, and quickly began descending it.

They bumped into two guards, one of whom was being held by the other, his armor dented.

"What…that's him!" the wounded guard muttered, raising an accusing finger at Vilfred. "He's the one who…knocked me out and took my keys..."

"Do you have any idea what has happened today?" the other guard barked. "The Emperor has been killed, and you plan a prison break? Come with me. Now!"

He drew his sword, and pointed it out at them, angling it back and forth between Britte and Vilfred.

"Please…" Britte whimpered, "don't hurt us…"

Vilfred raised an eyebrow. He had known Britte most his life. Whimper at the face of an enemy? They were not even outnumbered…

"I will not hurt you if you comply with our orders. Get back to your cells-"

A flash of bright light lit up the staircase, as lightning snaked out of Britte's fingertips. They hit the armed guard straight in the chest, sending him hurtling backwards down the stairwell, his weapon clattering after him-

Britte, Vilfred and the remaining guard watched in horror as the body hit the floor, and the sword came right after it. It landed point down, impaling straight through the man's neck.

"No…" Britte gasped slowly, stretching her hand out in vain. "I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, you're in for it now. The price for killing a member of the Imperial guard…is no less than death. I'll have both your heads!" the remaining guard growled, drawing his own weapon.

Britte muttered something else, and threw her hand down. A bright flash erupted, temporarily blinding the guard. It blinded Vilfred as well, but he felt someone grab his arm and pull him off, and he stumbled after it, hoping it was indeed Britte.

They made it back to the main entrance to the prison and burst out the front doors. Other guards looked at them in alarm, as they stumbled off out of the area as fast as they could, Britte leading the way. Vilfred blinked his eyes furiously until he was able to see where they were going, and picked up the pace.

The stunned guard collapsed out the front door, to the alarm of all the other guards. He only needed to gasp one word before losing consciousness again to set the force in motion.

"The Emperor…!"

Word had just been brought up to them a moment ago of the Emperor's death. And now this mysterious couple was fleeing that very area.

"They are the assassins!" the ranking officer shouted. "After them! Kill them on sight!"

The two Nords made it out of the prison complex, and across a small bridge that led to the capital city of Cyrodiil, the Imperial City. Within its massive walls, hundreds of people milled about, bartering, gossiping, doing their daily business. It was here Vilfred and Britte hoped to remain unseen.

"I hear something," Britte hissed, as they stopped behind a rock outcropping. They were running along the outside of the city walls, planning to enter through a different area.

"You heard the boss," a voice was saying a ways off in the distance. "These Nords killed the Emperor! There's no higher crime in the land! They're to be killed mercilessly on sight! Finding them is the city guard's highest priority!"

Vilfred gulped, and held on tightly to Britte. The guards went off in a different direction though.

"Killed the Emperor…?" Britte asked.

"Their Emperor was slain underneath the prison," Vilfred explained. "I've no idea how, but it seems we've been given the blame." He shook his head. "And I was unable to fulfill my promise to Dreth…"

"The one who helped you escape?" Britte asked. Vilfred nodded. "Well, I'm sure he'd understand…under the circumstances."

Vilfred let out a hearty sigh. "You are right. And our honor is going to take many more hits before our mission is over."

He peered up over the rocks. The coast was clear.

"Come on," he said.

They began to continue their trek along the outside of the city walls.

"We must go find the man who killed my brother," he intoned.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, what a beautiful morning…oh, what a beautiful day…"

Jensine hummed a little tune to herself as she walked across the street of the Imperial City market district. She continued to whistle the theme as she pulled out a set of rusting iron keys and began to twirl them around her finger. It was a bright and sunny day. Her spirits were high, despite the problems presented to her as the head of the small merchant's guild. She decided that today she was just gunna lay back and enjoy life.

She unlocked the door to her shop, "Jensine's Good as New Merchandise." She had the broadest business in the district. Well…second broadest…

No, no, don't think about that, she told herself. She flipped the sign on the door from "closed" to "open," and walked in, still thinking to herself…today I'm just gunna lay back and enjoy life…

In a matter of seconds she found herself lying sprawled across the floor, a throbbing pain in her head. Not exactly what she had in mind…

A hand grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and hoisted her back up. She caught a glimpse of a female Nord standing in the corner, watching her with eyes filled with sorrow. Such an odd look…this was not a normal robbery…

She was turned around in mid-air by the hand that held her, and faced a male Nord with a much more grim look on his face. He looked at her middle-aged face, her light blonde hair now ruffled across it. She gazed back at him with defiant blue eyes.

"The money is in a safe upstairs, behind a painting over the crates-" she began. It was more of a reflex than anything.

"We do not want your money," this man said, eyeing her carefully. He nodded to himself, seemingly content that she did not have any concealed weapons or tricks up her sleeve, and let go of her gently.

"Wait a minute…" Jensine gasped, backing away in sudden, shocking realization. She recognized that face…fixed into what seemed to be a permanent grimace, wrinkled with lines of worry; not age, his hair shaved nearly all the way, with a single gray band tied around his forehead. This was the description of the Nord that had killed the Emperor.

Looking over at the female, Jensine recognized her as well. She looked younger than the male, though in reality they were probably the same age. She had long, straight brown hair and the pale skin of one who spends her days studying. A magic user, perhaps? These were definitely them. The assassins.

The male Nord sighed in understanding, and shook his head. "No," he said. "We did not kill your Emperor. I have no means of proving this…but I give you my word."

After pondering for a moment, he added, "though I will admit that my word seems to have less meaning here than it did back home…"

Jensine looked at him intently, then back to his female companion. "You don't look like murderers," she concluded finally. "I may be insane for trusting you, but I guess right now I'm at your mercy. What do you want?"

"Last night I was in a pub nearby…the Feed Bag, or something to that effect," this man explained calmly.

"Yes, I know the place. I am a patron there quite often," Jensine answered hesitantly.

"A fought broke out. I grabbed a man, demanding information…and he gave me a name."

"Let me guess. Mine?"

The Nord nodded, not taking his eyes off of her.

Jensine sighed. "Aye, I am pretty much an authority figure around here…I run the small merchant's guild in this area, and most information goes through me. What do you want? What information are you seeking that's so important the entire Imperial guard wants your head?"

The man cast a quick glance at the woman, who nodded. He turned back to Jensine, and explained. "We are looking for an Argonian. We do not know his name. We do not know specific details of what he looks like. The only noticeable feature I can give you is that there is a circular mark around his left eye…large, as if someone left a dent on that side of his face."

"That is an odd request. And finding this man is worth invoking the wrath of the guards of the Imperial City?" Jensine asked, genuinely curious.

"Yes," the man said simply. He seemed to have no doubt in his mind.

"Actually," Jensine began, "I think I can help you with that. I happened to see an Argonian with a mark just like that, and thought it strange…"

"Where?" the man shouted with such sudden ferocity, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Vilfred…calm down…" the woman in the corner said quietly.  
"Hmmph…" Vilfred muttered.

There was a knock at the door.

"We cannot be found!" Vilfred hissed, glaring at Jensine. She shrugged at him.

"What can I say, you had a good run-"

Vilfred raised a fist covered in iron armor at her. "Mark my words," he said slowly and deliberately, "I am no killer. But I can fell you with one blow if I must. Get us out of this, or you die."

Grabbing his female companion, the two Nord's ducked behind the counter.

"I don't like this one bit," the female whispered to Vilfred.

"I know, Britte…" Vilfred sighed. "I don't either…"

Jensine took a moment to compose herself, straightening her hair and shirt, then opened the door with a cheery smile on her face.

In stormed two Imperial guards, shoving her out of the way. They were both fairly young, but looked as if they took their jobs very seriously. Their armor was well-polished, their demeanors determined and stern.

"Gentlemen!" she shouted. "What is the meaning of this?"

"We're looking for two Nords, a male and a female," the lead guard announced loudly. "They are accused of murder, not only of multiple Imperial guards, but also of the assassination of the Emperor himself. They have committed the highest crime imaginable in this land. Finding them is imperative to the safety of our city."

"Boys, boys," Jensine said, laughing half-heartedly. "I'm the gossip center of the market district, you think I don't know this already? Of course I've been keeping an eye out for them. But I doubt that if they're loose in the Imperial City, they'd go shopping, don't you?"

"Still, it is mandatory that we search your shop," the guard continued, unfazed.

Underneath the counter, Britte grasped hold of Vilfred's hand.

"Do you accuse me of harboring asssassins?" Jensine said sternly, fixing her cold gaze upon the guard.

"N-no, of course not, ma'am," the guard said, faltering. "But it is simply protocol. I-"

"I seem to recall that it's also protocol to remain sober when on patrol," Jensine said softly, "but I seem to remember finding you stumbling about a few weeks ago, and I don't seem to remember reporting it to your superiors…or am I mistaken, Wariel?"

The guard gulped. "Stand down," he told his comrade. "Jensine is as respectable a citizen as they come in this city. We'd be wasting time searching here."

His fellow guard saluted, and walked off. Wariel smiled sheepishly.

"I do apologize for the inconvenience…it was really all his idea, he's very 'by the book,' I'm sure you know-"

"Yes, yes," Jensine said, ushering out the door. "Now if you don't mind, you're scaring away potential costumers. I don't want it to look like a crime is going on here."

"Quite right, quite right. Thank you for your time…" And with that, Wariel stumbled out, unsure of what exactly had just happened.

As Jensine closed the door again, Vilfred and Britte stood up from underneath the counter.

"Thank you," Vilfred said softly.

"I don't want thanks," Jensine said firmly, now believing she was in control of the situation. "I want answers."

Vilfred looked sidelong at Britte, who nodded.

"I am wearing this gray headband around a shaved head as a symbol of mourning," he announced. "Approximately one month ago, my brother was murdered."

Jensine said nothing, watching him carefully, absorbing every word.

"I do not know why. My brother was well liked, and had no enemies that I know of. I had never seen this Argonian before. Our village consisted almost entirely of Nords…but I saw this Argonian approach our house. I was in the woods right outside the village, collecting wood, so I only saw him at a distance.

"I hesitantly walked back over to the house, fear overwhelming me. I walked inside, called out my brother's name, but there was no answer. Fear growing inside me, I walked through our small house, checking every room. He was not there.

"Then I heard the struggle from out back. I rushed through our back door, and saw the Argonian plunge a dagger deep into my brother's heart. His back was facing me…I saw my brother's face as pain erupted through him, then watched the life drain from his eyes. I erupted in anger, and charged the Argonian…

"He only half turned, allowing me to see the strange mark around his eye. But before I could hit him, he landed a strong blow over my head, first. I hit the ground, and though I tried to get back up and ready to resume the fight in an instant…he was already gone. My brother lay dead in front of me."

Jensine held her breath, afraid of disturbing this story in any way. Vilfred's heart was in his eyes, as he relived every moment of that day.

"I found a trail," he said, so soft it was almost a whisper to himself than a story to others. "I got Britte, and we left that night…the long journey to track him down and get justice. That trail led us here, to the Imperial City."

Vilfred looked up now, his eyes staring straight through Jensine.

"While his physical trail become impossible to follow inside these city walls, we began investigations. And that trail…has led us to you."

Jensine nodded. "I can help you. And I think, in the process, you can help me."

"We would gladly repay you for your help," Vilfred said.

"Let us go into my back room, so no one will barge in on us," Jensine offered. "I have a proposal that I think will benefit us all."

"There is a Wood Elf who recently set up shop here in the market district," Jensine began, after Vilfred and Britte had been comfortably seated, and declined the offer for anything to drink. Jensine was, before anything, a businesswoman, and so she started right in with her proposal.

"His prices are so low, we of the merchant's guild are going out of business," she explained. "He charges less than it costs to make some of his stuff, and he refuses to talk to any of us about joining the guild. He's up to no good."

"What do you want us to do? We are not diplomats," Vilfred replied.

"The only way this man, Thoronir, is accomplishing such business tactics is through shady means, I assure you." Jensine paused for a moment, then said, "I saw this Argonian with the strange mark around his eye walking out of there no more than a week ago. If he is the shady character your story certainly seems to portray him as, he may very well have connections with Thornoir."

Vilfred jolted upright. "Then we must go confront Thoronir!" he shouted. He was about to grab Britte by the arm, when Jensine chuckled at him.

"Really now. You can't be any more tactful than that? Tsk, tsk…"

"What do you suggest?" Vilfred snapped.

"Calm down," Britte warned, tugging him back into his seat. Vilfred rubbed his temples and apologized.

"Quite alright, I understand…here's what you do." She leaned forwards and lowered her voice, more for dramatic effect than anything. "Case his joint. Ask questions, follow him around. He recognizes me and the other merchants, but you would be able to find out information without him noticing. I have a hunch that this trail will lead you straight to this Argonian."

Vilfred and Britte exchanged a glance. So much seemed to be conveyed without a word, then Vilfred stood up again.

"We cannot thank you enough for your aid," he said.

"Actually, you can. Bring Thoronir to justice along with this Argonian, and I've benefited as well."

"Then we must not wait another moment," Vilfred announced. "Come, Britte. Let's go."

"Are you forgetting something?" Britte asked softly.

Vilfred seemed to think for a moment, then his eyes went wide. "Of course…we cannot go out into the open. The entire city guard is looking for us…"

"Then you'll have to be sneaky about this," Jensine suggested. She opened her mouth to say more, but there was a knock at the front door of the shop. "Damnit," she said. "Look, in the basement is a grate into the sewers. Go through there. Find a way to watch Thoronir, it's the only way!"

With that, she had to rush off. The two Nords quickly made their way down to the basement, where amidst a bunch of dusty old drawers and tables, was a heavy iron grating.

"I was really hoping it'd be a while before I had to go back down into the sewers,  
Vilfred said with a sigh.

By a complete work of fate, Thoronir himself was singing "oh what a beautiful day" when he heard a clatter from the floor below his shop, "The Copious Coinpurse." Looking oddly over at the wooden door that led downstairs, he stopped his humming and found an eerie feeling wash over his body.

He shrugged and continued counting his inventory. He had the look of a salesman, the kind who would sell you your front door for double the price. He was not an evil man, but he was crafty. And there was that noise again!

Thoronir kept a small sword under his desk for protection. He had no idea how to use it, and had never had reason to before now. He clutched the hilt nervously, staring down the door that led up from the basement.

He wasn't sure what happened in the intervening few seconds, but the next thing he knew his head was crushed against a countertop, and a very angry Nordic face was very close to his.

"I'm afraid we're closed," Thoronir muttered, gasping for breath.

Britte touched his arm, so Vilfred relaxed his grip on Thoronir just enough for the Wood Elf to be able to talk clearly. He swiveled his eyes around to face his assaulters.

"The money is in a safe hidden under-" he began.

"What is it with this city and money?" Vilfred snapped. "We don't want any damn money!"

"You're the ones the guards are looking for," Thoronir said knowingly. "You'll both be killed!"

"Probably," Vilfred said, picking up Thoronir in one hand. "But we have business to deal with first."

Britte opened the door into the basement, and Vilfred threw Thoronir onto the floor, then walked down after him. Britte extinguished the lights in the shop, to deter anyone from snooping around, then followed.

"What is this all about?" Thoronir gasped, trying to back away into a corner.

"Your inventory," Vilfred began. "It's very nice."

Thoronir looked at him for a moment, his face blank. Then he erupted. "If you wanted to pay me a compliment for my inventory, you could've walked in the front door and said so!"

"I am a man of peace," Vilfred said, "but I would recommend you cooperate."

At first all Thoronir could think of was his stark, unwavering fear. He was a very small man, like most Wood Elves, and would thus be crushed by this Nord. But as he actually looked into his aggressor's eyes, he saw that it was true: hurting him would hurt Vilfred as much as it hurt Thoronir.

Vilfred kneeled across from the wounded shopkeeper, looking him square in the eye, and described the Argonian. He did not reveal his story to this man, for he knew not if he could be trusted.

Thoronir looked at him pleadingly. "I don't know the Argonian," he began. "Yes, I saw him, he was in my shop. But…I knew him through an intermediary."

"What?" Vilfred asked, confused. "Explain!"

"The man I get my inventory from! I don't know, this Argonian came in and said he knew him, so I gave him a discount…"

Vilfred looked deep into Thoronir's eyes. He wasn't lying. In all honestly, the poor man probably didn't know anything shady was going on.

But it all fit – this man, this supplier for Thoronir, was the key to it all.

"What's his name?" Vilfred asked, his excitement getting the better of him.

"He's a Nord, like you," Thoronir began. "Named Agarmir."

Vilfred stood up slowly. His face went ashen white, and his lips began to turn purple. So alarmed did he look, Britte lunged forwards, afraid Thoronir had slipped a poisoned blade into him.

"What is it?" she asked, quickly grabbing his arm and helping him over to a table to sit down on.

"Please don't sit down on-" Thoronir began, as the table broke under the Nord's weight. The Wood Elf flinched, but Vilfred showed no notice at all.

"Agarmir is from our village," Vilfred began. "From before you came, Britte…"

He had never been on good terms with Agarmir. He believed in resorting to force immediately to get whatever you wanted. The two clashed heads together on many issues throughout their younger years.

But he wouldn't kill his brother.

An Argonian he had never seen before and a villager he hadn't seen in years, all wrapped up in the death of his brother. Vilfred could feel the chasm of mysteries opening underneath him, sucking him in. And he had a feeling this was just the beginning.


End file.
